by Lucy Monroe
Though he could detect nothing to cause his beast concern, his gums itched and his joints ached with the need to shift. Something was causing his beast to be agitated, something calling to his beast that he could not smell, see or hear.
"The Balmoral Seer is your grandfather, you said?" he asked, rather than give into the beast.
"Aye. He has trained many Seers. The one who used to be MacLeod but is now Sinclair, and most recently the Seer who serves the MacLeod clan. She's wife to the laird and pack alpha."
"The Sinclairs have two Seers?" Haakon's pride's Seer was a very old man, though few knew how old. Certainly, Haakon did not. His father had.
But in all his years, not another Seer had been born to their pride for him to train as replacement. When he died, the kotrondmenskr would be without one.
Something else the Faol had said caught at Haakon's attention. "You said laird and alpha, are not pack alphas the lairds of their clan?"
No pride alpha would allow another to be jarl of the territory, no matter the rights of a blood descendant.
"Aye, they are. At least in recorded memory."
"There was a time when the Chrechte were not part of the clans." They had lived independently in the forest. Haakon's father had told him of the ancient days when all Chrechte lived closer to their animal counterparts than they did in the modern world.
"We are a fierce and contentious people."
"Ja." The Vikings had gained a large part of their ruthless reputation from the actions of many Paindeal among them. "But our numbers are dwindling."
"Are they?" Artair asked. "Do you still have use of the Paindeal Neart."
"We do." Though the one they used was a small fragment of the larger stone that the Paindeal who had left to journey south to the Land of the Sun had taken with them so many centuries before.
Unsure how much he trusted these Faol, Haakon did not mention that fact.
"It's just that the Éan admitted that if they didn't go through the coming of age ceremony with their stone, they could not father or give birth to children who shared their Chrechte nature."
Haakon considered that in silence as they walked. His father had once said that the coming of age ceremony was naught like it once was. That the light emanating from the stone was a small flicker compared to the glow that had surrounded him when he'd come of age.
Could the size of their stone have something to do with the lack of new Chrechte children born to their people over the past generations?
It was something to consider. What would the Seer say?
Certainly, Haakon had every intention of asking the wily old man.
CHAPTER FOUR
I
t took Haakon and Artair the rest of that day and the better part of the next to reach the landing spot he'd sent the other Faol to in his uncle's territory. Although they'd run in their shifted forms part of the previous day and all of that one, Haakon had been too eager for information only available when talking in their human form the day before and they'd spent most of it walking. They'd stopped to shift back when they were over a single rise from the landing beach he'd directed the rest of the Faol to.
When they arrived, the ship was there, and the others were waiting. Gart, the mate who wanted a wife and children, rather than to claim the great gift fate had laid before him, paced on the beach. He stopped and tilted his head, spinning to face them as Haakon and Artair came over the rise.
Maon, the other MacLeod soldier and the Sinclairs noticed them after Gart.
Artair had said that none of the Donegals had come on the journey because their laird was just coming into his own at the age of twenty-five and still training under the Sinclair's former second-in-command. Artair had not shared that the man was both Éan shifter and Faol, but Haakon had guessed.
He had not expressed his belief for confirmation but was sure it was true. The description of the Chrechte's prowess in certain areas of battle and battle readiness, the slips about flying, never quite said, but allusions a man of Haakon's knowledge could not ignore.
Gart came striding forward, Maon and the others a few steps behind. "Finally. I thought something had happened to you two."
"What do you think could happen to an asmundr?" Haakon asked, humor at the man's foolish belief filling his voice. "Even a griffin would pause before attacking me."
Arrogant? Perhaps, but also true.
Artair nodded his agreement, his expression holding some of his initial shock at seeing Haakon's shifted form for the first time the day before.
Gart sneered. "Whatever you shift into, it can't be that impressive. You're not a dragon."
"No. Only the Éan can bring forth the Dragon guardian, but as I told you yesterday it would take a conriocht of uncommon skills and size to defeat me alone." He stepped forward until Gart took a single step back, pacifying the beast roaring inside Haakon. "But you? You are no conriocht. My patience with your idiocy will not last much longer."
Gart glared at him, refusing to respond.
"He isn't conriocht," Artair confirmed. "Gart is too interested in his own welfare to be called by our sacred stone to protect the Faol, much less all Chrechte."
Once again, Gart looked hurt by his mate's opinion, but he said nothing in his own defense.
"No one knows who the stone will find worthy, even a former soldier of the Fearghall who sought to destroy what he did not understand." Maon whiskey amber gaze was haunted.
And Haakon had no trouble working out that it was himself he spoke of.
Haakon turned away from Gart, his action in itself an insult as it reflected how unworried he was to have the Faol at his back, and faced the alpha of this small group. "Even after the call, guardians can make terrible mistakes." His father had fought his own people, had murdered the Faol in the pursuit of land and riches on behalf of his king, if Haakon's mate was to be believed. "You chose to turn from that path and the Spirit that guides us all now leads you on another."
"And that Spirit never makes mistakes?"
"I am sure the Faol my father killed during his years leading soldiers for his Viking king think a gross error happened when Bjorn, the Firebrand, was given the near unbeatable form of asmundr."
"Your father killed the Faol?" Maon asked, his expression going wary.
"I told you he could not be trusted!" Gart's strident tones did nothing to appease Haakon's beast.
"He did." He would not share all his mate had told him because he was still hoping she somehow had misinterpreted his father's actions.
"But you said asmundr protect all the Chrechte."
"And that is what he taught me. My mother brought him back from the lost place he lived in for so many centuries." That much, Haakon knew to be true.
"Ja, your father, he had his reasons for not respecting the other races of our people." The Seer's old, creaking voice came from behind Haakon. "For hating them."
Shocked he had been unaware of the other Chrechte's approach, Haakon turned to face the old man. Stooped before them, under the burden of his age, his grey hair tied into a braid by his great-great-grandaughter as it always was, his long beard a mix of silver and white, his furs enveloped him like a living shroud.
The Seer had suppressed his nature, but more than that, no scent at all came off him and he moved as silently as the specters said to haunt the ancient places.
"He never said anything like that to me."
Osmend nodded, as if he expected nothing else. "Your father had a sacred mate and another son centuries past."
Haakon stepped back, staggered by the blow of the words against his mind. "My father did not find his mate until my mother. He told me so."
"No, he told you he did not find your mother until he was many centuries old."
"He had two sacred mates?" Artair asked, his tone breathless, something like hope lighting his eyes.
And Haakon knew why.
Osmend gave Haakon's traveling companion a knowing look before turning his gaze to Gart, which se
emed to make the other Balmoral uncomfortable. "Ja. Our sacred mate is a gift from fate, but should we not claim that gift, or should it be denied us…" He paused to cast his aged gaze on Haakon. "There is a chance for every Chrechte that another mate lives for him, or her, to claim."
"So, a man might have a female mate if his first mate is male?" Gart asked, his hope bright as a candle in the darkest hour of night.
The Seer gave Gart a sorrowful glare. "You crave children so much you will deny the mate you've been given?"
"What? Who said I have a mate? I was only asking." Gart moved away from them as if putting distance between himself and the supposition he had a mate.
Osmend shook his gray head. "Do you not realize that if children are what you crave, fate will care for that as well? But if you deny your destiny, nothing is certain but that you and your life will be less for it."
"You said Chrechte could have more than one mate."
"Did you not also hear me say that Haakon's father did not find his second mate for centuries after the first was stolen by a Faol, their baby with her."
Varying sounds of shock sounded around Haakon, but it was if those sounds came through the distance of a deep cave. His father had truly had another mate? A son, he had lost? But how could he? He was asmundr, who could take his child from him and live?
"Surely he tracked them?" Maon asked, his tone and expression saying he'd witnessed atrocities as great.
He no doubt had. By his own admission, he'd once followed the way of the Fearghall.
"The Faol was no fool, he took to the water." Osmend leaned heavily against his walking stick, taking a deep breath of the sea air. "Even an asmundr cannot track scent across the sea."
"But how? The Faol of centuries past did not have seafaring vessels." That was one of the other soldiers.
Haakon cared not for such details though. His father had hidden this terrible thing from him. What else had the man hidden from his only…no not only…but only living son.
Osmend gave Haakon a long look before answering the soldier. "You forget that in those times, we were one people. The ability to build a ship was something our Chrechte brethren brought with them from the Land of the Sun."
"But that's not what our historians tell us." Maon didn't sound like he was arguing, but trying to understand.
"And are your historians old enough to have seen a sunrise a millennium past?" Osmend demanded imperiously, even as his body sagged against his stick.
The walk from his home to the coast had worn the old Chrechte out.
Though Haakon had not realized the Seer was that old. His past and life was shrouded in secrecy and mystery. He had family in the village to be sure, but no one spoke of his age, or his past. Too many feared his ability to curse them, despite their beliefs and supposed trust in the priests from Rome.
"But I won't live that long," Gart said with every evidence of disappointment.
"No. You may well live long enough to find a second mate," Osmend said as if admitting it pained him. "Not one as perfectly in tune with your soul as this worthy soldier, but someone with whom you can have those children you are so worried about."
"All Chrechte should be worried about having children. Our race will not survive if we do not." Haakon found himself spouting what he had been taught even as he wondered at its validity.
According to Artair, the wolves had no trouble bringing forth new generations of Faol.
"Seeking truth, living in a way that benefits others, fighting for peace, these goals will make certain our race survives." Osmend's voice rang with certainty and something other, something that called to Haakon's beast. "The laws that require procreation as we have in our clan do nothing but engender division and unhappiness."
"You are required by law to procreate?" Artair asked with shock.
"If two men are mated, they must first attempt for at least three moons to impregnate a female in the fur before they can consummate their own mating and be incapable of helping to grow the pride."
"That is barbaric." It was not Artair speaking that time, but Gart. "You would have your pridemates give up their children to be raised by another because they are mated to men."
Haakon had never considered it in that light. They were such a small pride and all lived close to one another. He hadn't thought it was a great sacrifice, but there was no question Gart believed it would be. And if the looks on the faces of his fellow Faol was any indication, they agreed with him.
Neverthless, Haakon shrugged. "We are of the original Vikings, that is not the first time our pride has been called such."
The Seer snorted. "Do not be arrogant, boy. The foolish Faol has a point. Your father made many mistakes and perpetuated injustices because of his own pain. Some of those injustices continue to this day."
"But he taught me the right way to be Chrechte." Haakon needed to believe that. For the possibility that he was not the honorable Chrechte he believed himself was a live coal in his chest.
Perhaps his mate had been right to reject him as coming from tainted stock.
"He did at that. But that does not mean everything he said was true, right or of honest benefit to our people. He allowed the law of procreation to stand."
"I don't understand."
"He lost his way after he lost his first mate."
That much Haakon had always known, though the why of his father losing his way, he had not. "Did she never return?"
"Oh, aye. She returned. Pregnant with the Faol's child. She was human and she could marry outside her mating, which is what she had done. Your father was a hard man, dedicated to the welfare of the Chrechte. She was young and beautiful, believed she should be the center of your father's life."
"What of my brother?"
"The Faol and your mother petitioned the Chrechte council for the right to raise him. Considering your father's position and what it required from him, their petition was granted. One voice dissented. The Paindeal councilmember. He argued vehemently against allowing the Faol to take the child with them back to his people."
"And my father?"
"He abided by the council's decision, but refused to turn his hand to protecting the Faol after they allowed his mate to be taken from him."
Haakon could not believe what he was hearing. "Is that when the Paindeal left Scotland?"
"That is when the Paindeal drove the Faol out of Norseland."
"What of the Éan?"
"Their councilmember had voted against the asmundr as well. She said she understood the woman's needs better than any asmundr could."
"So?"
"So, your father told the council that the Faol and Éan had one month."
"One month until what?" Maon asked, his tone saying maybe he knew the answer.
Haakon thought he did as well and really did not want his suspicions confirmed, but knew he must listen to the truth. It was the Viking way and while most Norse now lived by a different code, the Chrechte still followed the old ways.
Osmend sighed, long and hard, his expression reflecting an ancient grief. "Then he would turn the full fury of his asmundr beast on any that remained."
"And so they left as well."
"Ja. Our people who were mated to them went with them."
"But…"
"No Paindeal exist in Scotland?" Osmend asked with a sardonic look at Maon. "Like no Éan exist among the clans?"
"They didn't. Before."
"Didn't they?"
The Faol were all still with their shock.
"You are saying there are Paindeal among the Faol?"
"There are, but none will ever shift without the coming of age ceremony, which they cannot participate in because they have no Paindeal Neart, though at one time they had a fragment as we do."
"What happened to it?" Maon asked.
"That is something you will have to discover, young conriocht. After you travel to the Land of the Sun and find our Paindeal brethren, reuniting the races once and for all. That I would live to s
ee that day is all I have hoped for these many centuries past."
"But I thought…"
"That we were the Paindeal?"
That is what Haakon had thought, though he'd been told as a child some Chrechte still lived in Norvegr, but their numbers were small too.
"We are but a fraction of the Paindeal. Those left behind when the others decided Bjorn, the Destoyer, was no true protector of his people and they left to return to the land whispered as the place of our origins."
"Origins?" one of the young soldiers asked faintly. "I thought the land of the Danes was the place of our birth."
"Chrechte come from the Land of the Sun and over the ages have spread far and wide in the world."
"Spread where? England?" Maon asked with distaste.
Osmend lips twisted in an almost smile at the man's disgust for the country to the south of his home. "There are Chrechte in every people, but not all can shift. Some have packs, prides and flocks, others live alone never knowing the ways of our people."
"But we are the Picts, the scourge of Rome." Gart sounded like he could not take in all he was hearing.
For once, Haakon was of one mind with the Balmoral soldier.
"Some of us, ja. Some live among the Rus. Some still reside in the Land of the Sun."
"Where is this land?"
"It is far south, across another sea. The ancient and even more ancient stories tell of life beside a river of abundance. A place where all Chrechte lived together as one, revered by the humans around them, but also living among them."
"Surely that is just a fairytale."
The Seer drew himself up and glowered. "I speak history. I speak truth. You doubt me?" His voice reverberated around them as if the very air was alive with it.
Haakon dropped to one knee, his hand over his heart. "No, Seer, we do not doubt your calling or your words."
"Well, I do. This all sounds very farfetched," Gart said with a sneer.
Artair stared at his mate, the Faol he'd told Haakon had been his best friend for most of their lives. "What have you become that you would doubt the one that should be held above others? A Seer more aged than any Chrechte alive in our homeland."
